₮Ⱨł₴ ł₴ ₮ⱧɆ Ɇ₦Đ¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯User: Lioth
Show Name: Somebody Told Me
Barn Name: Kenta Mori
Gender: Stallion
Halter: Black with little yellow spots
Personality: A bit cold and dark, like
a tree after a snow storm.
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯α pєnnч fσr чσur thσughts?
Collins: I mean, he's an okay guy, but I tend to stay away from
him.
Estel: He's just so sad all the time, it just makes me wonder
what all he's seen and how I can help.
Kota: He's like me.
Bren: I don't like Kenta Mori. He's too... normal, and he zones out
too much.
Taketomi: Oh, he's a bit boring. But he can definitely be a nice
guy!
Schmebulok: Kenta is.. is good to talk to w-when he's neutral.
Dia: Well... I suppose he is bleh.
Ryenne: He's pretty amazing. Despite seing a lot of bad things, he's
still pretty nice... sometimes.
Kaori: I feel connected to him sometimes. We're the same in our
thoughts.
Tadashi: I think Kenta's cool to be honest. I just wish he'd joke
around more.
Runaway: I understand him.
α níckєl fσr чσur fєαrs?
Pronouns:
He/Him
Theme:
Bodies by Drowning Pool
Placed:
The oak tree by the base of the mountains,
where the wild flowers are dark and hold
no light.
Color:
Heather
Allies:
Runaway, Kaori, Kota, Ryenne, Schmebulok
Enemies:
Himself
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ɴᴏᴠᴇᴍʙᴇʀ
It was November. The sun was low in the sky, spirits dancing
on the horizon alongside it. The town, with its many people,
was no silent act. Upon the hill I stood, so I could see them
all running and bustling through their daily lives. Each one
had a different story to tell. All with different people,
events, and places. But, did any of them stop and take a
moment, maybe just one, to stop and ask if anyone around
them had a story to tell?
The soft layer of snow on the hill crunched under the
pressure of my hooves as I carefully walked to the bottom.
I had hoped that by the time I had gotten to the end, night
would have fallen and I would be hidden once more. Skinny
bones and thin limbs popped with every movement. It had
been a while since I'd seen a nice amount of food, or a kind
hand willing enough to provide any. That was alright, I guess.
It just meant that I deserve where I am.
The forestry slowly spun by. What used to be alive spun
in elegant patterns and groupings. To anyone else it might
have seemed like the perfect winter day. It just looked like
another dark day to me. Just one more time I had to walk
down this dark lane, all the way to the barren cobblestone
streets of the quaint town below.
Perhaps this was the last trip for me. The people below can
not forgive, can not forget what I have done. Did they ever
think about it? The way the frozen bodies shone in the ever
slight light of the sun? The way they felt when they finally
realized what I had done? The famous last words of many a
stolen soldier?
The crisp voices of broken snow morphed into a thick click
as my hooves struck stone. It felt cold and lifeless beneath
me, as if the town had perished in place of its people. I
took a deep breath before trudging on. Small golden wisps
curled around my hooves, glowing and marking all of the
places I had stood.
Lights in the windows of the olden cottages remained still.
I could feel people opening their blinds, watching as I
clicked down the center of the lane. Their eyes watched
every step. The last steps I had planned to take here, in
front of them. In front of the people who had once
banished me for a terror that had never been my fault. A
tragedy that had lead to the destruction of many.
Slowly, the center of the town rose in front of me. A
fountain, one as tall as two Shires, curved its way around it.
The night held heavy and thick as I stopped walking. The air
crushed me, sending my head spinning and my lanky limbs
sprawling. The months hadn't been so nice on me, not to
mention how I had been running from them all along.
People crept down stairs, onto balconies, into the streets.
They tossed their heads and whispered, dark eyes glowing
like evil little stars in the dusk air. Sneers captured all of
their faces in my presence. I hung my head, shaking my
tattered mane over my monstrously marked face.
I took in all of their faces. Some burnt, some hidden by
cloaks and hats, scars and masks. Their sneers glowed white,
a small beacon to show all I had done wrong. I stole one last
breath before turning to speak to them.
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"This is the end for us," I told them. "The end for the monster you
hate so much. Soon I shall leave, and your people will once more
be 'happy.' Is this all you want?" I asked. Sighing, I turned away
from them, and walked off onto the horizon. Their laughter went
on and on, fading as I walked away. It seemed like the war they
had with themselves was finally over. If they put me at fault for
this, perhaps they were correct. But the town was now okay, and
I was off to find something more to do. And soon, I had walked
so much that the stars had swallowed me, bringing me in as one
of their own in the forest of monsters in the sky.
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чσu'rє αll вч чσursєlf вut ｙｏｕ'ｒｅ ｎｏｔ ａｌｏｎｅ
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
Three days and a fortnight later, I stumbled into the
pasture, head low and feet lazily dragging behind me.
My eyes were closed in pain, my sides aching and
thin from weeks without food. The stars had let me
go, and I was no longer under their protection. I was
left a stained monster, black crawling and creaking
up my once clear grey hide. Teeth, snarly and crunched,
decorated my face with vigor.
The stars were gone, replaced with a dark sky of grey
and blue. It was dreary and wet, fog wrapping around
my legs and wisping at the tips of my tail. My legs
cried to be relieved of their work. I stared at them in
sadness, but trudged forward through the muck of the
field. This place, I did not know, but with every step I
felt as if I were getting closer to a place where I could
be at rest.
Soon enough a dark shape walked through the fog. The
thin legs, resting under a sturdy body and a thick mane
of hair, it looked like a horse. Quickly I rose my head to
attention, despite my quaking legs and shivering hide.
Friend or foe?
"Hello," they called. The voice was soft, gentle, and
comforting. I was certain that it was a mare. They halted
in front of me, dipping their neck forward to speak.
"Welcome. I see you've been out here for a while. I am
Kaori, and this is Sonder Way. It's a place for all to come
and belong. I am going to have to assume that you have
yet to find a place like this. I can invite you in, and you
can stay, or you can go. The choice is yours, stranger."
My answer was immediate. I couldn't pass this up.
"I'm Kenta Mori. I'm going to come with you."
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ｓｏｎｄｅｒ
n. - The realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk.
-Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows
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Image credit: xx - Gif credit: xx - 'Bodies' lyrics: xx - Dictionary for 'Sonder': xx - Mentioned characters are my Tolters - Sonder Way is my stable where he resides
